


Pearl

by h_itoshi



Series: Love February 2021 (Rarepairs) [4]
Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Japanese Actor RPF
Genre: Drinking and Smoking, M/M, but fully consensual sex, hints of other relationships if you squint, some shady conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/pseuds/h_itoshi
Summary: They haven't met in a long time, and Suda wasn't entirely sure what made him reach out and ask if Yamada wanted to come over for drinks, just that it felt right. Four drinks in, he's starting to feel like he knows exactly what made him do it.Prompt: First time
Relationships: Suda Masaki/Yamada Ryosuke
Series: Love February 2021 (Rarepairs) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149329
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Pearl

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't know about this? I wanted to write some Yamada worship and I watched assassination classroom and Suda's hot? Do I need more reasons?

“No.” Yamada denies his request, but the smile on his lips is embarrassed as he looks down at his glass on the shiny bar surface instead of looking him in the eye. There's a tint of pink on his cheeks and alcohol glazing his big eyes, and he looks so gorgeous Suda doesn't really know what to do with himself.

They haven't met in a long time, and Suda wasn't entirely sure what made him reach out and ask if Yamada wanted to come over for drinks, just that it felt right. Four drinks in, he's starting to feel like he knows exactly what made him do it.

“Come on, just tell me? I won't spread the word.” Suda promises, hoping Yamada's fifth drink is enough to make him talk about more private matters for once. “You don't have to say names, just tell me how many?”

Yamada raises his head again, slowly like the motion is heavy, and looks at Suda with that smile still on his lips, a look in his eyes that's probably supposed to be warning but it only feels teasing.

“Not as many as you think.” He says defensively, and Suda wets his lips, subconsciously bringing the cigarette back to them just for something to do. And maybe because he needs the nicotine because his body is up to things.

“But there are some?” He insists, and Yamada breathes an uncomfortable little laugh, which really is all the confirmation he needs. But he's so damn curious.

There was always something special about Yamada. He's timid and nice and hardworking, easy to get along with, and so fucking pretty it's insane. Yamada doesn't like to be called pretty, Suda learned when he teased him with it when they were filming together. He wants to be hot and cool and manly, when in reality he's above that, gifted with an ethereal beauty that makes him almost untouchable. So untouchable that it feels a bit wrong to think about him in a sexual way, but Suda can't help himself because how could you not.

He wonders what Yamada looks like in bed, if his cheeks flush like they do now. Wonders what his soft voice sounds like moaning desperately. He's wondered from the first day he met Yamada, and he knows he's not the only one.

He had a very drunken conversation with a certain someone close to Yamada about that once upon a time, in the early morning hours after lots of whiskey and cigarettes. They both pretend that conversation didn't happen, but Suda's certain he's not the only one remembering it crystal clear.

“Yeah, there are some.” Yamada admits, and Suda exhales smoke while watching Yamada with an encouraging raise of eyebrows while his heart pumps heavily in anticipation.

But Yamada doesn't go on, only looks at Suda's cigarette for a moment before reaching out to take it. Suda lets him, intrigued to watch him bring it to his lips, surprising even himself with how his stomach twists up in want as Yamada's lips close around it.

“Didn't think you smoked.” He says, watching closely as Yamada inhales smoke, watches his cheeks hollow and eyes close.

He's growing hard in his pants.

“I most certainly don't.” Yamada says softly, exhaling smoke while he speaks without a hint of a cough, and Suda laughs as the cigarette is held out for him again. Yeah right.

He leans in to wrap his lips around the filter, purposely brushing Yamada's fingers holding the cigarette and he hopes he doesn't imagine the little hitch of breath.

“You're avoiding my question.” Suda insists after a moment of silence, where Yamada puts the cigarette to his own lips again, illuminating his hazy eyes as he draws another breath of smoke, thoughtlessly flicking ashes from the cigarette and Suda wonders so much.

“You're so nosy.” Yamada reprimands, but he's not serious. “How many co-stars did _you_ sleep with?”

“More than I'd like to admit.” Suda confesses, because he did. Sometimes just for fun, sometimes to relieve some tension left from filming, sometimes with real feelings. Sometimes he thought it was one thing and it turned out to be another, but he still never seems to learn.

“Oh.” Yamada says slowly, raising an eyebrow without meeting Suda's eyes. “Anyone I know?”

The question is loaded, and Suda knows exactly what Yamada's asking, but he just shrugs.

“Probably someone.” He says vaguely, watching Yamada stub the cigarette and reach for his glass instead. His profile is stunning.

“I'm probably better off not knowing.” Yamada says against the edge of his glass, and Suda watches his breath frost the inside of the glass for a moment before he tilts it enough for the amber liquid to touch his lips.

“What about you? Anyone I know?” Suda asks, the same forbidden question in the same transparent cloak, and Yamada slowly lowers the glass from his mouth.

“Not that I know of.” He says, clearly being as vague about it as Suda, but he doesn't want it that way. He doesn't care who Yamada fucked as long as he gets to hear about it. Even if one of them was Yuto.

“Hmm, are you sure?” He asks coyly, reaching for the liquor bottle to refill Yamada's glass even though it's not really empty yet. “I know a lot of people. Were they men or women?”

The last part is bolder than he's ever asked, but he hopes, and he thinks he's right.

Yamada's head slowly turns to look at him, and his face is expressionless for a long moment before an eyebrow raises for a second, the tiny gesture enough to call Suda an idiot for even asking, that it's obvious. It makes Suda wet his lips, fingers drumming against the marble top as images flash before his inner eye of handsome men he knows Yamada's worked with, wonders who and when and how. Yamada could probably seduce any of them if he really wanted to.

“I see.” He says, and it comes out a little faint, which makes Yamada's mouth twitch with a lopsided smile as he raises the refilled glass to his lips again. “Now I'm even more curious.”

Yamada makes a choked noise and covers his mouth enough to swallow before he starts laughing, and it sounds beautiful and fresh but it still somehow just makes the tension in Suda's stomach coil tighter.

“I didn't think you could get more curious.” Yamada finally explains with a smile, eyeing Suda with a teasing look that would make him embarrassed if he wasn't so turned on.

“Can you blame me?” He asks instead, a little challenge in his tone, but Yamada doesn't seem to understand what he's trying to say, his lips uncertain whether to smile or not, and he tilts his head cutely in a silent question. “Oh come on, everyone wants to fuck you, don't they?”

Yamada makes an interesting face, some kind of flattered wince, looking towards the windows like he finds the city skyline very interesting suddenly. “Not everyone...”

“But many.” Suda finishes the sentence for him, and Yamada looks back at him, eyes hooded and his lashes flutter a little as he glances down Suda's body.

“Do you?” Yamada finally asks, and the question is the perfect blend of teasing and reprimanding, posed so that Suda could easily laugh it off and keep their friendship just the way it is. Or not.

“... Hell yeah I do.” Suda finally admits, voice quiet but the intensity still comes out, and Yamada's eyelashes flutter as he blinks slowly once, his only reaction to the words.

“... Isn't there a woman in your life?” He asks seriously, holding Suda's gaze for once as his fingertips absently play with the cut pattern of his glass.

“None that would mind this.” Suda says, just as serious, and Yamada nods in acceptance and lifts the glass to his lips again, barely sipping the liquid inside this time.

The lack of response is both frustrating and thrilling, and Suda watches Yamada for another long moment before his patience runs out. “... Would you let me?”

Yamada wets his lips and slowly puts the glass down on the expensive coaster with a dull sound, before he looks up at Suda with a spark of curiousity in his eyes. “Yeah. I would.”

It feels like a punch to his stomach, and Suda squeezes the glass in his hand to let the emotion pass, the heat spreading through his body as he realizes that this actually might happen.

He watches Yamada watch him, those big eyes sparkling like jewels from the dim light in the apartment, but he can't read what they're telling him right now.

He leans in more instinctively than anything, close enough to smell the alcohol and cigarettes on Yamada's breath contrast the scent of his perfume that makes images of a day at the ocean flood Suda's mind.

Before he knows it, he's brushed their lips together, once, twice, five times, and he slips off his barstool to be able to get closer, pushing Yamada back against the edge of the counter.

It feels intoxicating, and Yamada gasps for breath as Suda pushes closer, raising a hand to his hair to thread into the brown locks and guide his head where he wants it. Yamada lets him, tilts his head this way and that way, raises hands to wrap passively around Suda's neck as he presses even closer and parts Yamada's willing lips with his tongue.

It's so easy to lose his mind, to become more aggressive than he usually ever is, because he's finally kissing Yamada Ryosuke, and he wants to make the most of it.

Suda's hands settle on Yamada's hips and push up under his T-shirt, causing him to make an interesting noise against Suda's tongue that he considers consent.

It can't be comfortable for him, pushed back tight against the edge of the table top, but he doesn't seem to mind as Suda leaves his lips and kisses up his jaw instead.

Yamada's first moan as Suda drags short fingernails over the muscles of his back sounds like a soft song, and he immediately wants to hear more.

He nips at Yamada's neck, licks along his jugular and tastes the ocean scent right off his skin, and Yamada's hips flex a little where he's still seated on the barstool. The movement makes Suda pull back enough to look down at the beginning of a bulge in Yamada's black jeans, and he couldn't keep his hands off even if he wanted to.

He presses the heel of his hand against the swelling, and Yamada's fingers curl against the nape of his neck as another soft noise comes over his wet lips.

“Fuck.” Suda gets out, slowly rubbing against the cock that keeps hardening obediently for him through layers of clothes, while Yamada voices his appreciation so beautifully it makes him want to just drop to his knees right now.

“Bed.” Yamada says, the word breathy but determined enough, and Suda has no complaints.

He pulls Yamada along, unable to really stop touching him until they're in the bedroom, illuminated dimly by the city lights outside. Yamada looks pale in this lighting, but it just makes him more ethereal, and a red aircraft light on the next building repeatedly dyes his brown hair red in slow pulses.

Suda just stares at him for a long moment, wondering if he's really allowed to do this, but Yamada decides for him when he starts tugging off his own T-shirt.

Smooth skin contrasts firm muscles under Suda's hands, Yamada's tongue teasingly playing with his own and he's so distracted he can barely get Yamada's belt open.

With joint efforts clothing disappears, and Suda marvels at the sight of Yamada naked beneath him against the dark sheets.

Yamada's small hands run along Suda's body, his arms and back and ass and back up again, tugging him down enough to be able to place wet, suckling kisses against his neck. Suda fumbles blindly for the necessities, thanking the universe for letting him still have lube here as he manages to grab the tube.

Yamada gasps as wet fingers brush his thigh, slowly edging closer to their goal, but Suda can't help going slow when he feels Yamada's skin break out in goosebumps where he touches it. He wants to watch his face but also watch his fingers go inside Yamada's ass, so he ends up trying to do both, alternating between watching his first finger slide deeper inside and watching Yamada frown against the intrusion, the sweat starting to bead at his temples.

Suda takes his time, even though he's so hard he wants to rub off against the mattress, but Yamada is so fucking tight and he doesn't want him to be in pain. He leans down to kiss anything he can reach as he slowly works fingers inside him, shuddering as Yamada squeezes tight around them when he does something good. At one point he accidentally bites him too hard when that happens, but it's winter and Suda just hopes Yamada doesn't have to be topless in front of a camera the coming week.

He's tempted to keep going after three fingers, just to see how far he could spread him open, and because Yamada's reactions are gorgeous as Suda's fingers rub and brush at his insides.

But his hormones reject that idea, his cock hot and heavy between his legs as he reaches down to roll on a condom. Yamada watches him do it with hooded eyes and rapid breathing, and Suda slows down a bit to make sure he gets a good view.

“Turn around?” Suda asks, because even if Yamada's face is beautiful, this is how he always dreamed of fucking him. The deepest he could possibly go.

Yamada obeys without question, settling onto his hands and knees, and Suda wets his lips as he looks at Yamada's hole clenching impatiently, thinks about eating him out until he comes all over himself. The idea makes his cock jerk angrily, and he hurries to straighten up a little, grasping Yamada firmly by the hips as he lets his sheathed cock slide along his crack before he finds his way.

Yamada moans softly as Suda slowly breaches his muscles once again, pressing deeper and deeper inside of him, Yamada's head hanging and his shoulder muscles flexing as he fists the sheets.

“Fuck, Ryosuke...” Suda moans unintelligently, not sure if he's allowed to call him that, but he feels so fucking good he's not really thinking straight.

There's a responding moan, and Suda keeps pushing until he's as deep as he can go. He pauses, feeling Yamada's muscles explore the intrusion, hears his shallow breathing and sees his upper arms tremble. Suda carefully shifts, detaches a hand from Yamada's hips and wraps it around his waist instead, leaning over him enough to press a kiss to his shoulderblade.

He feels Yamada's cock twitch against his forearm, leaving a moist spot that quickly cools on his skin, and the responding noise is breathless and angelic.

“You okay?” Suda gets out, and Yamada nods, audibly swallowing between rough breaths.

“Yeah. Move.” He says, and Suda doesn't hesitate to comply.

He starts slowly, moving just an inch at a time, and Yamada's moans are deep and guttural, nothing like how Suda imagined but so much better, like Suda's physically pushing the sounds out of him with each thrust. He speeds up successively, not really purposeful yet because he wants to draw this out, make it last for as long as he can.

He leans over Yamada, rubs lips against his sweaty skin and feels his own sweat drip from his hair to mix with Yamada's and everything feels perfect.

Yamada's arms eventually give out and he falls onto his elbows with a small “oof” sound, and the angle shifts drastically, his moans pitching much higher and Suda straightens up to make the most of it.

He grabs Yamada's hips again to hold him in place as he speeds up, almost drowning out Yamada's noises with his own because the visuals of his cock slamming into Yamada's ass brings him almost as close as the feeling does.

Yamada claws at the sheets and wrecks his voice and it's so fucking perfect, fire spreading through Suda's body and he blindly grabs for Yamada's neglected erection to bring them over the edge together. Yamada cries out and even though Suda knows he's doing a sloppy job, he feels wet heat spill over his fingers just moments before his own orgasm washes over his nerves.

He's blind for a couple blissful seconds, hips still twitching with aftershocks as he falls forwards, catching himself with his hands on either side of Yamada.

There's a low whine from Yamada, but it doesn't sound pained, just overly stimulated, and Suda understands that perfectly, still riding out the last bits of his orgasm as he feels Yamada's muscles uncertain whether they still want him there or not.

He pulls out as carefully as he can, and helps Yamada lie down more comfortably before discarding the condom.

Yamada draws long, slow breaths as he lies sprawled across the bed, cheeks flushed red and the tips of his bangs sticking together with sweat. His entire midsection is sticky with his own come, and Suda wants to taste it but he's not sure he's allowed to.

“Mm that was good.” Yamada says softly, eyes barely open as he looks blindly at the ceiling.

Suda almost asks, but he thankfully stops himself.

“Fuck yeah.” He agrees instead, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaches for the cigarettes on the nightstand, offering one to Yamada.

“Not yet.” Yamada says, and Suda shrugs, lighting his own while looking at Yamada catching his breath. He's still so fucking pretty.

He inhales his first breath of smoke and waits for Yamada to regain enough breath to steal it from him.

It's an hour later when Yamada's pulling on his mask and beanie, ready to leave despite Suda insisting he can stay.

“Thanks for tonight.” Yamada says, like tonight was just drinking as usual, even if his cheeks are still rosy and he moves a little gingerly.

“Thank you for coming.” Suda replies politely, despite standing there with only a lazily tied robe on. He still doesn't understand what goes on in Yamada's brain, but he doesn't have to.

“Let's do it again sometime.” Yamada goes on, and there's a tiny playful smile on his lips as he speaks the words.

“Please.” Suda agrees, but he barely gets to finish the sentence before Yamada's out the door.

There's a gust of cold air and Suda shivers, but he still smiles. Maybe next time he won't need to get him drunk.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to write half of the Love February prompts, [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1ftDAHBxVtsYIrcV15NSQQu3XBXufP7tSPZV431WCM6I), which means four each week. And I decided that it was a good time to try out stuff I've been meaning to write but never did, so please allow me to rename it my personal Rarepair February. If you like something, please let me know and maybe I could expand on that pair lol


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